


Indecent Proposal

by seraphina_snape



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Dubious Consent, Dubious Morality, First Kiss, Introspection, Jealousy, Love Confessions, M/M, Misdirection, Secrets, everything is not what it seems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 19:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5940078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seraphina_snape/pseuds/seraphina_snape
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Logan Pierce is going to publish his memoir. In order for Finch and Reese to be left out of the book, Pierce makes Reese an <i>indecent proposal</i>: Logan gets to spend 24 hours with Reese to do whatever he likes with Reese. In return, Reese and Finch will not be mentioned in the book. Reese agrees, and that's when the problems start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indecent Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> No real spoilers. Set at some point after the episode One Percent.
> 
> The title is a nod to the movie Indecent Proposal in which Robert Redford plays a billionaire who offers a young couple (played by Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson) $ 1 million to spend the night with the wife. This story is not based on the movie and doesn't draw on its plot points. If you'd like to know more (about the plot and how it relates to the dubious consent tag), please see the end notes. Be aware that it might spoil part of the story.
> 
> Written for a challenge @ **[gameofcards](http://gameofcards.livejournal.com)**. Prompts: 5. Someone the character(s) knows publishes a tell-all memoir that may include the character(s).  & 5\. Jealousy.
> 
> This story probably isn't the most polished one I've ever posted. I was working towards a close deadline, so I'd like to take this chance to apologize in advance for any mistakes you encounter while reading. I've edited things as much as I can to avoid any glaring errors, but there's always a chance I missed some. Please let me know if you find any major ones. Thank you!

Reese frowned when he spotted the picture taped to the glass board in the library's ops center. 

"New number?" He glanced down at his phone. No new messages, no 'missed call' alerts. 

"No, not exactly." Finch didn't look up from what he was doing, so Reese took a step around the desk. 

"A repeat?" Reese studied the familiar face in the picture. "Logan Pierce. You'd have thought he learned his lesson…"

Finch blindly reached for a file on the desk and held it out for Reese. "He's not in danger. But see for yourself."

#

Reese's eyebrows climbed steadily higher as he browsed the file Finch had put together. It contained copies of contracts and legal documents, a half-finished manuscript and a series of emails between Logan Pierce and several publishing houses.

"He's writing his memoirs?"

"He's trying to." Finch paused in his typing. "I haven't found a full manuscript yet, but I'm sure that's only a matter of time. Mr. Pierce's servers might be near impenetrable, but the publishing house's aren't. We must assume that any memoir will include an account of us, and given Mr. Pierce's lack of respect for anyone's privacy or boundaries, I doubt he'll gloss over our involvement. I'll take steps to censor his publication and keep our names and whatever else I can out of it."

"Hm." Reese put the file back on Finch's desk. "I doubt there's much of a chance that he'll leave us out if we ask nicely." 

"True," Finch agreed. "However, we should at least try."

"What are we going to do if he says no?"

Finch leaned back in his seat, a butter-wouldn't-melt expression on his face. "Have I ever mentioned that a lifelong dream of mine is to own a publishing house?" 

Reese laughed and buttoned up his coat before heading out the door. 

Sadly, though, Finch had a feeling it wouldn't be quite that easy. Pierce had enough money that he could publish the book himself quite easily – if they made it impossible for him to make a deal with a publishing house, he'd likely use his usual problem-solving method of throwing money at the problem until it went away.

#

Pierce gave Reese a wide smile when he entered the office, like he hadn't just bullied his way past security and the secretary. Again.

"So, what brings you to my humble office?"

"Harold had some interesting news for me today," Reese said, keeping his back to Pierce while he feigned interest in the expensive but bland decorations. No doubt all picked by the interior decorator. The chewing gum ball in the corner however was pure Logan Pierce. Colorful, juvenile, and impossible to overlook.

Reese turned and raised an eyebrow at Pierce. "Have you been telling tales? I thought we agreed that you would keep myself and Harold a secret."

"Did we? Must have slipped my mind." Pierce shrugged before cocking his head to the side. "Have I been a bad boy?" A smirk stole across his face. "Are you going to punish me?"

Reese didn't dignify that with an answer. Instead, he took a seat in the visitor's chair and simply waited. 

In his ear, Finch scoffed. "All right, if he wants to be like that," Finch muttered. "I'm buying majority shares in every single publishing house in New York City under several aliases. Mr. Pierce will have to look elsewhere if he intends to publish his book here."

Reese cleared his throat. "Publishing this memoir would be a bad move."

"Would it? Because I--" Pierce frowned, looking down at his laptop. "Huh. Will you look at that? Seems like every publishing house I've been in negotiations with has pulled out. What a coincidence."

"How unfortunate."

Pierce's frown stayed for a few moments longer, then he sat back in his chair and shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "On the other hand, who needs books these days? This is the twenty-first century. The digital age. I'll just go with Plan B. I liked it better anyway."

"Plan B?"

"Plan B," Pierce confirmed. "Online publishing. I'll publish a chapter a week – for subscribers only, of course. Excerpts will public, and I might reveal the complete thing for free at a later date."

Finch was grumbling into his ear, not at all happy with this new development. Reese tuned him out and focused on Pierce. "What do you want?"

Pierce gave him an innocent look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what do you want?" Reese stood up. "You're too clever for your own good. You see a puzzle and you can't leave it alone. You'd know that we'd show up if there was another threat to you, but obviously you don't want to put yourself in unnecessary danger. What's the next best thing: threatening us. Not with violence – we can deal with that – but with exposure. The one thing you know we want to avoid. So. What do you want?"

"Very good, John." Pierce grinned up at Reese like a proud parent grinning at his toddler who'd just walked his first steps on his own. It was incredibly annoying. If Pierce wasn't such a high profile person and if Reese wasn't trying to be one of the good guys, he'd have reacted with intimidation and some minor violence. As it was, he sighed and quietly stood his ground.

"What I want is simple," Pierce continued. "I want to publish my memoir. I see why you and your friend might be anxious about that, so I might be persuaded to edit the few chapters that deal with my recent troubles…for a price."

"He hasn't landed himself in any new trouble as far as I can see," Finch said. "I'm not sure what he could possibly want from us in return."

A man like Pierce had no need to ask for money and they both knew it. A favor was the more likely price for his silence. "Are you going to make me ask?"

Pierce sighed. "It's called a dramatic pause, John. But I can see the subtleties of it are wasted on you."

"If I'm going to have to fix whatever problem you have in return for your discretion, I'd just as soon get it over with."

"Oh no, I'm not in trouble," Pierce said. "I am, however, invited to an exclusive dinner party tonight and I'd loathe going alone."

"You're… asking for a date?"

"No, not exactly. Here's my offer: I'll edit my memoir and erase any mention of you beyond vague allusions to my security staff. In return, I get to have you for the day."

"Have?" Finch asked. "Have how? Have for what?"

Reese echoed Finch's questions. 

"For whatever I like," Pierce said, his smirk back in place.

#

"No, John. Absolutely not!"

"It's fine," Reese said. "Nothing I haven't done before."

"Nothing you should ever have to do," Finch countered. "Besides, how do we know we can trust Pierce to keep his promise?"

"Oh, he'll stick to his word. You know the guy. He's all about the thrill. This deal is probably worth more to him than whatever money he would make with the unedited book."

"His offer is inappropriate and borderline criminal."

"Considering he's blackmailing us, I'm not surprised."

"How are you able to joke at a time like this?"

Reese sighed. "I told you, Finch. I _have_ done this before."

"But--"

"It's all right. We can't afford to have this book out there."

"But, John--"

"I'm going back in." Reese paused. "I'd appreciate it if you could stay on the line, but I'd understand it if you'd rather not."

"I'm not at all happy with this," Finch eventually said.

Reese waited another moment, but no other objection or comment followed. He took a breath and made his way from Pierce's private bathroom back into the man's office.

"Has Mother given her permission?"

Reese ignored the mocking words and gave Pierce a stoic look. "We agree to the deal. Your 24 hours start now."

Pierce glanced at his clock. "Great. In that case…" He punched a button on his phone. "Liz, I'll be out of the office for the rest of the afternoon. Cancel everything."

Ignoring the automatic protest of his secretary, Pierce strode out through the office and up to the elevator. Reese followed.

#

Harold Finch was fuming. He was doing it silently and with his poker face intact, but Bear had picked up on his mood and lay with his head on Finch's feet, shuffling closer whenever Finch shifted in his seat.

"Care for a refill?"

Finch looked up at the waitress, not even able to dredge up a polite smile. "Please."

She topped up his cup and moved on to the next table. Finch turned his attention back to the laptop. He was running multiple searches on Logan Pierce, trying to find a piece of dirt that would allow them to blackmail the man right back and free Reese from his deal. In the corner of the screen, a small video window was open, showing the interior of a high-end menswear shop two streets over. It currently showed John Reese trying on his seventh suit for the afternoon while Logan Pierce critiqued and evaluated Reese like a piece of meat. 

"Still nothing," Finch reported. "I apologize again that you have to deal with this undignified _arrangement_."

"It's fine," Reese said. 

Pierce was too far away for Finch to hear his reply over the line, but Finch could see him shake his head. Finch wasn't an expert in lip-reading, but Pierce mentioned the cut of the suit, so he likely hadn't realized yet that Reese was mostly talking to Finch.

Pierce moved closer to Reese and ran his hands over Reese's broad back under the guise of checking the fit of the suit.

Finch glared down at the laptop and widened his search parameters. A man of Pierce's wealth and reckless nature simply had to have a skeleton or two buried somewhere…

#

"Now, wasn't that fun?"

Reese glared down at the small shopping bag like it was responsible for his less-than-pleasant day. "I liked the bit where you said 'I think we're done'."

Pierce grinned. "Oh, we're done with the suit. But you still need shoes, a watch and cufflinks. A new cologne, too. I can smell the cheapness from here." 

"Cheap?" Finch muttered in his ear. "Obviously Mr. Pierce hasn't gained much in terms of class or taste since we last saw him."

"I like this cologne," Reese said. "It was a gift."

"That's sweet," Pierce said in a flat voice. "But you're mine to play with for the next twenty or so hours, so you're getting a new one. And a haircut."

Reese heaved a long-suffering sigh and trotted after Pierce.

#

Finch trailed the limousine and stopped down the block, watching as Reese followed Pierce up into the house. Finch had a property a few blocks down the road. He could hack into the security feed and hopefully be able to watch over Reese at this dinner party.

Thirty minutes later he was cycling through the four measly security cameras inside the house. One was trained on the entrance – good for figuring out who was present at this party, but not useful in the least for keeping an eye on Reese. Another was focused on the narrow backyard, showing nothing but a carefully illuminated garden shining wetly in the constant drizzle of rain. The third camera was in the garage, no doubt to protect the expensive cars parked in it. The last camera covered the foyer and the coatroom – it was the only one that promised at least a few sightings of Reese throughout the night since it panned over the foyer and thus caught a glimpse of the dining room beyond. Unfortunately, all Finch could see of Reese was his left shoulder. 

Bear was subdued on his evening walk, but nonetheless fell over his evening treat like a starving dog over a surprise meal. Finch found himself listlessly poking at his Chinese takeout, snagging only a few bites before he pushed the carton away with a grimace. 

At the dinner party, Pierce kept flirting with Reese in a wildly outrageous manner. Finch was almost glad he didn't have to see it – if he accompanied his words with gestures, he was surely all over Reese. 

When Reese excused himself to use the bathroom, Finch stood up and started pacing the Spartan but expensively decorated living room. 

"I have to apologize again, Mr. Reese. I cannot find a shred of useful information. Logan Pierce has no sense of shame. There are scandals enough, but none that have been hushed up and could be used as leverage."

"We both knew that he wasn't a very discreet person." 

"And now you're paying for it," Finch said, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Don't do that," Reese said. "I agreed to this, Finch."

"Because there is no other choice right now. But we both know this isn't right."

"Unfortunately it looks like right now we're not the ones making the decisions." 

Finch didn't know how to respond to that. 

After a moment of silence, Reese cleared his throat. "I should go back out. No reason to jeopardize this deal." 

"Right," Finch said, but it didn't sound like agreement at all.

#

"It's going to be _a-maaaazing_ ," Pierce said, hooking his arm around Reese's. They'd left the dinner party in the limo and the limo at the last intersection.

"I'm sure," Reese replied flatly. They were drawing attention with the way Pierce hung off his arm and the way he loudly talked about the suite he'd rented for the night. "Do remember that this deal was to keep us out of the spotlight," he muttered. 

"Spoilsport." Pierce pouted for a moment, appearing far drunker than he was. "Besides, aren't you excited? We'll have the entire Penthouse to ourselves. The view from the hot tub on the terrace is to die for."

"If all else fails," Finch said darkly, "Mr. Pierce could always lose his balance on the roof terrace and take a tumble all the way down to the street."

Reese smirked. 

The hotel was one of the most exclusive in the city and Reese didn't want to know what kind of strings Pierce had pulled to get them in at the last minute. 

Ten minutes later, Reese ended his security run of the penthouse on the terrace. Pierce was right; the view was breathtaking. He smiled slightly. "I think you'd like this hotel, Finch. They've got decent security and the view is pretty nice, too."

The sound of terrace door being pulled fully open made Reese turn around. Pierce pushed a small food cart onto the terrace and then pulled the lid off a dessert platter with a flourish. He gave Reese a wide, approval-seeking smile. "Ta da!"

Pierce set the silver lid aside and picked up the platter. "All your favorites, I hope: fresh fruit, whipped cream, chocolate and some cheese if you're more the savory type."

"I'm not hungry."

Pierce rolled his eyes. "Wow, you really know how to _not_ have a good time, huh?" He sighed and put the platter down with a pout. "All right: hot tub time!"

Reese stared Pierce. 

"You know, you could try looking like you're enjoying yourself," Pierce said. He let his suit jacket drop from his shoulders and started unbuttoning his shirt. "It makes it feel so cheap to get into a hot tub together if you're glaring daggers at me." 

"The deal was I spend twenty-four hours with you," Reese reminded him, taking off his own suit jacket and shirt. "It didn't include me pretending to like it."

"Pretending? Who's pretending? These are strawberries imported from Spain." He popped one into his mouth and moaned. "They taste like sun-kissed sugar and freshness. Here, try one!" 

"I said I wasn't hungry."

Pierce stepped closer and held the strawberry up to Reese's lips. "I insist."

Reese opened his mouth, ignoring the way Pierce's fingers lingered on his lips as he slowly chewed the strawberry. 

"And?" Pierce asked, tracing the curve of Reese's lips. 

"Delicious." Reese circled his fingers around Pierce's wrist, but before he had a chance to do anything else, the elevator dinged and the penthouse door opened.

#

Being underestimated, misunderstood and overlooked was something on which Harold Finch usually prided himself. He was a master at misdirection and obfuscation and while he might not have John Reese's undercover training, he did have a lot of experience being someone else. Pretending was second nature to him. He slipped from one role to another in the blink of an eye.

Harold didn't relish deceiving people. His secrecy, his aliases, his lifestyle – they were necessary for his own safety and Reese's, and everyone else who came into contact with them. But he was exceptionally good at lying to people. He usually took care not to lie to himself, though, which is why he wasn't still in his townhouse, listening to the surveillance feed. Instead he was at the same hotel as Reese and Pierce, sliding a slid a blank key card into the slot in the elevator and pressing the button for the penthouse.

Finch had known about the attraction he felt for Reese for a long time. Yet he hadn't had the urge to act on it, content with the friendship and the unexpected closeness that resulted from their many hours of working together. Letting go of Grace had been painful in the extreme; setting himself up for another eventual loss with Reese didn't seem prudent. Reese didn't seem unhappy to keep things as they were, so that was what they did. Reese had his own relationships, however brief, to fulfill whatever needs Finch didn't meet, and Finch had thought that was enough for the both of them.

Until the deal Pierce struck with Reese. 

Ever since the early afternoon when Pierce had set up this arrangement, Finch had felt the tension in him mounting. While Reese was treated like a life-sized doll for Pierce to dress up, Finch seethed and fervently searched for a way out of the deal. While Pierce wined and dined Reese, Finch felt his frustration rising and his anger dipping into dangerous levels. Seeing surveillance footage of Reese and Pierce walking down the street arm in arm towards a hotel had ended whatever shred of calm and composure Finch had been clinging to. He snatched up his car keys and followed them, hoping to arrive in time to prevent the rest of the evening's entertainment. 

Finch could, if he had to, live with seeing Reese in Pierce's company. He could deal with seeing the suits he had had so carefully tailored for Reese be replaced by gifts from Pierce. He could live with Pierce effectively erasing any trace of Harold from Reese's person, down the other man's aftershave (which had been included in the apartment he'd given to Reese on his birthday; Reese never commented on the fact that Harold had set up regular deliveries to make sure Reese never ran out). 

The point was that Finch _could_ , if he had to, live with all of it. He could shut off the feed and he and Reese would pretend it never happened. They could continue as they had been and never actually enter a relationship. They were both good enough at compartmentalizing and playing a role that it wouldn't change their working relationship much – at least on the surface. 

But listening to Pierce's flirting and Reese sardonic, antagonistic and often monosyllabic replies, Finch realized that while he _could_ live with it if he had to, he simply didn't _want_ to. He had no desire to see their careful balance destroyed by Logan Pierce. If anything was going to change the relationship between him and Reese, it would be one of them finally making a move and throwing the ball into the other's court. Refuse or accept – the decision should be theirs. 

When the elevator doors opened into the penthouse sitting area, Finch kept a tight control on his expression and hoped he wasn't too late.

#

"Finch."

Reese took in the tense set of Finch's shoulders and the lines on his forehead. He automatically took a few steps towards his partner, but was halted by Pierce's arm winding around his naked chest to hold him back.

"You're not supposed to be here, Mr. Behind-The-Scenes." Pierce let go of Reese and grabbed his discarded jacket from the floor, pulling out his cell phone. "How did you even get in here? Nobody's supposed to have that key."

"I'm aware of that." Finch shot a narrow-eyed look at the small heap of clothes on the terrace deck. "Mr. Reese, if you'd be kind enough to get dressed. We're leaving."

"What is this? Are you jamming cell phone signals?" Pierce dropped his phone and stepped inside the room, reaching for the phone on a side table. "That wasn't the deal!"

"The deal is off! And it's no use, Mr. Pierce. You won't be able to call security until after Mr. Reese and I are gone." Finch looked at Reese, blinking. "You're not getting dressed."

Reese bent down to pick up his shirt, but didn't put it on. "I'm honestly not quite sure what's going on, Harold."

"We're leaving, that's what's going on. I never should have let you agree to this deal, which is why I'm calling it off."

Reese stepped off the terrace and towards Finch, drawing him to the side. "Harold," he said, voice low, "I told you it's all right. I've done this sort of thing before. I don't mind."

"You might not mind, Mr. Reese, but I do." Finch kept his gaze fixed on a point just above Reese's right shoulder. "I can't in good conscience allow you to do this."

"You didn't have a problem with it before."

"I think you'll find that I did," Finch argued. "I simply choose not to inform you of the depth of my disagreement."

"You lied."

"I did not lie. I choose not to fully disclose my feelings on the matter."

"You promised me you wouldn't lie to me. Is that still true?"

Finch shifted his eyes to meet Reese's. "Always."

"Then tell me the truth, Harold. Why are suddenly against this?"

Finch swallowed, fighting the urge to look away and hide his eyes from Reese's expectant look. They both knew the reason. The unspoken attraction between them was just that: unspoken, but not unknown. Finch was a master of pretense and secrecy, but Reese had been able to see past his masks for some time now, just as Finch could see the real John Reese underneath the stoic mask of the soldier Reese wore to protect himself. 

"I think you know why, Mr. Reese," Finch said with a wry smile on his lips.

One corner of Reese's mouth quirked up, making him look at least ten years younger. "I think I do, too. But I still need you to say it, Harold. I've been burned before by people who I thought were on the same page with me." The half-smile dropped from Reese's face. "I already trust you with my life, Harold. Show me that I can trust you with the rest of myself, too."

Finch took a moment to simply breathe, knowing that Reese would patiently wait until he was ready to articulate his thoughts. Before he had found a starting point, however, Pierce pushed between them. 

"Right, so I'm not sure what the problem is here, but I'm owed another sixteen hours of John's company and I intend to make the most of them." He gave Finch a big, smarmy fake smile. "I'll even be generous and not add the fifteen minutes of my time you just wasted to the total. Now run back to your hidey-hole and leave me to my entertainment."

Finch already stood ramrod straight, but the glare on his face made him appear taller. "Mr. Pierce, you are currently on very thin ice. I suggest you sit down and shut up while Mr. Reese and I have out conversation. I spent the entire afternoon investigating you, Mr. Pierce, trying to find a way to stop this farce before it went too far. Your lack of morals and shame made it utterly impossible for me to find any kind of leverage I could use to stop your little blackmail scheme with one of my own."

Pierce gave a smug little laugh.

Finch countered it with a smirk of his own. "Oh, don't feel too pleased with yourself. Do you think that being smart and having a few billions in the bank is going to bring you anywhere near my level? You have no idea who I am or what I am capable of, Mr. Pierce. Not finding any usable dirt on you after a few hours of searching isn't going to stop me from burying you. No matter how smart you think you are and no matter how rich you are – nobody is untouchable. And trust me, you are a lot more touchable than I could ever be." 

Finch gave Pierce a measured look. "I took the liberty of erasing every single virtual copy of your so-called book, and I've employed several teams to recover any hard copies as well as electronic ones. The one you have on your phone is being erased as we speak and I believe that John has long since palmed the flash drive you kept in your left front pocket. If I hear one more whisper of any kind of memoir being released, I will destroy every single business connection you have. I will bury your company in law suits – you wouldn't believe how many loyal employees would be very willing to file any number of lawsuits against you and the company... for the right price. One lady I spoke to from your accounting department was ready to file for sexual harassment without any payment at all simply because you never looked twice at her. In short, Mr. Pierce, I will leave you alone, bankrupt and wanted by the police for a multitude of offenses."

Pierce angrily put on his jacket and pocketed his phone. "This isn't over. You haven't heard the last of me." 

"I believe we have," Finch replied calmly. "The next time you try to play in the big leagues, make sure you're ready _before_ you make your opening move."

Pierce huffed and stabbed the call button for the elevator until the doors opened with a _ding_.

"Right," Reese said when they were alone. "I believe you owe me an explanation." 

Finch nodded. "My initial aversion to this plan was obvious, I think, and I found myself increasingly more averse as the day progressed. I couldn't find any true leverage on Mr. Pierce and it made me feel helpless and out of control of the entire situation. I also found myself increasingly jealous."

"Jealous?"

Finch shot Reese an annoyed look. Reese knew exactly what he was saying and why, and the faux ignorance didn't suit him.

"Sorry. No more teasing, I promise," Reese apologized. "You were jealous... because he was doing everything that you usually do, and he was doing it a lot more hands-on."

"Indeed." Finch sighed. "John, do I really need to say it?"

"Yes," came Reese's immediate reply. "I need the words, Harold. Just this one time."

Finch nodded slowly, letting his eyes travel over Reese's still naked chest. Every single scar he could see was both a reason to come out and say what was on his mind as well as a reason to lock his feelings up tight and never let them see the light of day. But ultimately, what was more important?

He could still stop this. He could decide that their lives were dangerous enough, that it wasn't worth the heartache to grieve for a lost love when it was already painful enough to grieve for a lost friend. But therein lay the fallacy – no matter what he decided today, when the day came and Reese was taken from him, he would grieve a lost love and not merely a friend. They wouldn't have forever; sooner or later they would be torn apart by the dangerous life they'd both chosen. Better to seize the day and be happy for as long as they could rather than close himself off and hope the impact of loss would be less without firsthand knowledge of John's hands on his skin and John's lips on his. 

"I could have tolerated it, all of it, but not this, John," Finch said, waving a hand at the romantic set-up of the suite. " I couldn't bear the thought of letting you down to the point where you had to prostitute yourself for our safety. And I couldn't bear the thought that Logan Pierce would get to kiss you and touch you and hold you and I didn't. I couldn't bear the thought of you looking at me differently in the morning." Finch placed a careful hand on Reese's chest, right over his heart. "I have been in love with you for quite some time now, John, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you before I even had you."

Reese covered Finch's hand with his own. "That's really great to hear, Harold, because I've been in love with you for a while now, too." He stroked his fingers over Finch's hand before reaching out to cup Finch's face. "May I kiss you?"

"Yes," Finch whispered, his breath catching in his throat as their lips met. As the kiss continued and deepened, they both forgot all about Logan Pierce and what brought them to this point in the first place. All that mattered, in this moment and in all others that followed, was that they were finally together.

  

Epilogue (because everything really is not what it seems) 

Pierce was sitting on a park bench in a small park in Brooklyn, playing with a flashy hot pink smartphone. 

"Nice spot," Reese commented. The park wasn't covered by cameras and the tall trees surrounding them hid them from cameras in the surrounding streets.

Pierce yelped and dropped his phone, glaring up at Reese. "I'm regretting choosing it right now. It would serve you right for your… keeper to see you meeting with me."

"Harold knows where he stands with me." Reese inclined his head. "But I appreciate the discretion."

"I'm sure you do." Pierce grinned. "Well?"

Reese sighed deeply. "Thank you, Logan. I owe you one."

Pierce laughed out loud, long enough that Reese felt the urge to punch him in the nose. "I feel almost bad accepting a favor for this," Pierce said once he had his breathing back under control. "I had so much fun."

"I can't say the same."

"Oh, really?" Pierce tilted his head and pointedly stared at the fresh red mark on Reese's neck.

"Oh, I had fun," Reese said with a small smirk. "Just not with you."

"Well, that was the plan, wasn't it?" Pierce stood up and pocketed his phone. "I'm glad your plan worked out."

"So am I," Reese said quietly. "Thanks again."

"Anytime." Pierce started walking. "Oh, and you can keep the suit," he called over his shoulder. "If Harold ever stops paying attention to you, you can use it to make him jealous again…" 

Pierce's laughter rang out among the trees as Reese turned to head back to the library.

**Author's Note:**

> About the dubious consent warning: Logan Pierce offers to leave Reese and Finch's names out of his memoir in exchange for spending 24 hours with Reese. Reese does give his consent to anything that might happen, but since he's being blackmailed into it and exposure of his and Finch's activities is his only other option, his consent happens under duress. There are several scenes that indicate this blackmail is supposed to include sexual favors, but no sexual acts happen between Reese and Pierce.  
> ________________________________
> 
> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it.


End file.
